


Unnamed

by alicedragons



Series: Secret Santa [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (They will fix each other), Angst, Broken Bones, Broken Boys, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied Violence, Indentured Servitude, M/M, Mild Comfort, Painful Sex, Rape, Rough Sex, Sacrum Lacing, Sexual Slavery, injuries, mutual suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 08:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicedragons/pseuds/alicedragons
Summary: Two skeletons, on display like a canvas painted with everything Twist kept so carefully contained inside him.Muffet likes her toys. And more to the point, she likes breaking them. Twist is one of the few that refuses to be broken, but it's no secret that he's barely holding himself together. Muffet's newest toys could be what he needs to stitch himself back up--or they could be the death of him. Probably the latter, but here's to hoping.





	Unnamed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Kit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kit/gifts).



> Part 2 of my Christmas gift to Kit. Sorry, Kit!
> 
> Please read the warnings for this one. Very dark themes including rape, sexual slavery, ambiguous non-con situation (where both are unwilling participants, but one appears to have more control over the situation). Sad Spicyhoney boys, but at least they have each other.

“Oh, there you are, dearie, come in.” Muffet smiled at Twist from her dressing table. That was never a good sign.

“Yer lookin’ awfully chipper,” he said warily. “Been drownin’ babies?”

“Oh don’t be so droll. No—I have a task for you.” She powdered her cheeks delicately, then ran her painted nails over a selection of lipsticks. “I have a delivery arriving tomorrow morning, and I’d like you to make them feel welcome.” She picked out a blood red and smoothed it over her pursed lips. “Can you do that for me, my love? The cargo is quite delicate.”

“Yer askin’ me ta handle with care?”

She rubbed her lips together and laughed softly. “Oh no, dearie. I never expect you to handle anything with care.” She looked at him with a tilted smile. “Speaking of which…” She held out her hand and he took it obediently, swallowing a grimace.

“Where?” he asked quietly. She scanned the room, a glint in her black eyes.

“The door. And make it impressive. I want everyone in the manor to know what you’re doing to me.” Twist’s jaw tightened. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, closing her mouth over his neck. Instinctively, he leaned away. The touch of her venom evoked a visceral recoil in him. She nipped at his neck playfully. “Oh, you needn’t worry, dear, I’d like active participation from you tonight, as much as I love seeing you on your back.”

“Pity I need ta be hard fer active participation.”

She pulled back, her smile gone. “Careful, dear. It can become difficult for me to control myself when I’m around someone so delicious.” She spoke against his neck, dragging her teeth roughly over the bone. Twist hissed beneath his breath. “The door,” Muffet reminded him. “And we’ll keep going until the wood has splintered.”

“Shoulda jus’ given me an axe,” Twist said dryly, pushing her against the door. She laughed lightly as he kissed her neck, squeezing her legs around his waist.

“Another time.” She stroked his vertebrae, reaching beneath his shirt to trace her fingertips down his spine. Her nails dug into the cartilage, and Twist grunted. “The next time the maid brings me cold tea, perhaps. You always look so handsome covered in dust.” Twist shoved her hard against the door and she tipped her head back, exhaling. “There’s my boy. Undress me.”

With bile in his throat he pulled her nightgown over her head. Naked, she wrapped her limbs around him, crushing him against her. He latched his teeth onto her neck, squeezing her breasts. One of her hands crept beneath his shirt, twisting his ribs roughly. He let her unbutton his shirt and slip it off his shoulders. She studied him, tutting. “Hm. You’re not quite as pretty as you used to be,” she said, dragging her nails over his scars.

“Ye’ve only got yerself to blame fer that,” he growled softly, bucking into her. With a little focus, he managed to summon his cock. It was only half-hard, but he could work with it.

“Hmm, watch yourself, dearie,” she warned, gripping his iliac crests—too hard, and he winced, the bone straining beneath her strong hold. “Though you are right, I suppose. There’s just something incredibly satisfying about watching my toys break.”

“Long as I’m still yer favourite.” He dug his fingers into her breasts, certain to leave marks, and she purred.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” she said bemusedly. “Especially not false jealousy.” He hummed, brushing a sharp fingertip over her clit. She caught his wrist. “No preparation. I want to feel you in the morning.” He withheld a shudder and began unbuckling his pants. Smiling, she batted his hand away and freed his cock herself, squeezing it firmly. With a few strokes, he was hard, and a smile curled her lips. “Ah, I suppose there’s no use denying it. You are my favourite. For this exact reason.” She pumped his cock before guiding it to her cunt, pressing it against the outer folds.

Gripping her wrist, he pinned her hand to the door, pushing forward. She gasped and dug her nails into his ribs, making him wince. “How d’ya want it?” he asked huskily, grinning. “Sweet and gentle?”

She rolled her eyes and, gripping his hips, yanked him forward and forced the head of his cock into her. He grit his teeth and she smiled, cupping his jaw. “I know how much you enjoy taking your frustrations out on me,” she said with uncanny softness. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if you could break me? Feel my body crumbling in your arms as you had your way with me?” Twist shut his eyes, pushing deeper into her. She hissed, tight without preparation, digging her claws deeper into his iliac crests.

“Pretty picture,” he said, thrusting slowly.

“You’re going to have to work a lot harder than that before you earn it,” Muffet growled. She squeezed his hips and he grunted, forcing himself deeper into her. She gave a soft cry and he slid out, then thrust back in roughly. The door creaked beneath the force of it, and she smiled. “You’re getting there, dearie.”

“Yeah?” He thrust into her again, deeper this time, harder. “Ya like that? Like feelin’ me inside ya?” His voice was a growl, and his teeth were clenched so hard his jaw hurt.

“I prefer listening to you beg,” she said. He slammed into her and she gasped, tipping her head back. “Now that’s the monster I know. Come on, dear, I know you can do better than that.”

“Fuck you. ‘n every sense a’ the word.” He crushed her against the door, and it strained beneath their combined weight. She wrapped her limbs tight around him, holding him inside her until he groaned. He couldn’t move his hips, and his cock was so hard it ached. “Thought ya wanted me ta screw ya,” he hissed. “Not givin’ me much room fer fuckin’, are ya sweetheart?” Her nails raked down his shoulders, leaving small beads of marrow.

“You think you’ve earned that privilege?” she asked darkly. “You haven’t done enough grovelling.” When he didn’t meet her eye, she lifted his chin. “I love watching you fight me,” she breathed. “Keep going, dear.” She shut her eyes in sickening ecstasy. “You feel so incredibly delicious inside me. I could stay here all night.” She tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper still.

He whimpered and braced his hands against the door, panting. “Bitch.” She slapped him, leaving his cheekbone hot and stinging.

“ _Beg_ for it,” she hissed, her fangs bared. He swallowed, staring stubbornly at the ground while his limbs shook. She squeezed his hips, until a sharp throb shot through one of them. He groaned, breathing hard. A thin, sliver of a crack ran through the bone. He shut his eyes, his entire body trembling.

She gripped his chin, lifting his head. “Look at me when you say it.”

Exhaling, he stared her dead in the eye, keeping an even tone. “Please,” he said in a voice that sounded distant and unlike his own. “Let me fuck you.” The flatness of his words was a defiance—one that she was not pleased with, he was certain—but it seemed satisfactory. She loosened her grip and he pulled out at once, before driving back in with brutal force.

After they’d finished, Muffet sent him to call the repair service for the door. He limped from her room, wiping marrow from his mouth. A cracked hip and a few claw marks were the least of his injuries.

****

Come morning, most of the ~~physical~~ damage had begun to heal. The fracture would take longer to repair itself, but he could walk, somewhat normally. After dressing, he skipped breakfast and went straight to the foyer to await the delivery.

When the front door creaked open, his soul plummeted. _No._ She wouldn’t—

She would.

Muffet’s delivery boy led two chained ‘pieces into the hall—two, already unusual. Muffet was greedy, but she tended to take them one at a time. And more to the point, these ‘pieces bore uncanny resemblance to Twist. Two skeletons, on display like a canvas painted with everything Twist kept so carefully contained inside him.

The slam-piece was strong-boned and sturdy, standing tall. Though the tenacious demeanour he exuded hardly concealed the guarded expression beneath. He had fight in him yet, though how long that fight might last here…

The second—curled against the side of the first, and clinging to him as if he might crumble to dust were he made to let go—was frailer, softer. There wasn’t a scar on him. He was sweet, clean, and smooth as porcelain; quite the contrast to his matching piece. That was the way buyers liked them. He looked mostly intact… physically, at least. He trembled so violently Twist could hear his bones rattling. The slam-piece was holding him fiercely close. Twist could only wonder at the ways Muffet would find to use that against them.

The slam-piece watched Twist with dangerous intent, his eyes never straying. Only when there was a call from upstairs, did he look away. “Oh, here they are!” Muffet trilled, gliding down the stairs. The slam-piece stared at her, seeming at once to decide who the greater threat was. Muffet stood before the new arrivals, exhaling happily. “Welcome, dears. It’s so lovely to have you here at last. We’ve eagerly been anticipating your arrival, haven’t we, dearie?” She looked at Twist, and he nodded tightly.

“Yep, nothin’ like a fresh set a’ bones.”

“Indeed!” Muffet beamed at the two ‘pieces. “My pet here will gladly help you settle in. I imagine you’ve had a long journey.” She leaned around the slam-piece, studying the quivering thing at his side. “Oh, you poor dear.” She sighed. “It’s a harsh, harsh world for such a delicate little thing.”

She reached a hand out but the slam-piece growled, pulling his sweet counterpart closer to him. Muffet looked up at him, and—there it was, that dangerous spark of intrigue, glinting in her eye like poison. “You have nothing to fear, dearie,” she said with a sweet smile. “I was merely having a look.” She cupped the slam-piece’s jaw, stroking his face. Twist marvelled at his poise. He barely flinched, though the tension was visible in his posture and the way his eye-lights didn’t waver.

Muffet ran a hand down his neck, dragging a manicured nail over his sternum. “You’re a handsome one, aren’t you?” she purred, her finger notching in a deep scar that cut across his chest. “I wonder what we should call you.”

“I have a name.” His voice was rough, as if he’d damaged it.

“If you behave, perhaps I’ll let you keep it.” Muffet raked her fingers across his face and he flinched, curling himself around the sweet-piece as Muffet walked away. She leaned in as she passed Twist. “Get them cleaned up for me, and make them look pretty. I want them in my quarters in an hour.” She smirked at him, glancing at the two skeletons. “You like? Beautiful resemblance, no?”

He stayed stubbornly quiet and she tittered, walking away. Now the skeletons were watching him, and the slam-piece’s eyes spoke of murder, warning Twist against coming too close. Sighing, Twist turned for the stairs. “Alright, come on, kids. I’ll show ya where yer stayin’.”

The room set up for them was modest, but not uncomfortable. Twist had led countless of Muffet’s toys here. The routine was overly familiar. There was only one bed, but he was sure it wouldn’t bother them. He doubted he’d be able to get them to let go of each other regardless.

He took them to the bathroom first, to have them scrubbed clean by servants, then brought them back to their room. Muffet had already had garments set out for them. Silk robes, laced with gold thread—one blood red, the other pure white. Undoubtedly the selection had amused her. Ribbons and jewellery and lace accompanied the robes, along with a note in Muffet’s delicate cursive, reading, _Have fun!_

Twist grimaced and tossed the robes at the ‘pieces. “Dress.” He stood in front of the door with his arms folded, waiting. They only watched him, until the slam-piece broke the silence.

“We’d appreciate some privacy,” he said, stroking the spine of the sweet-piece.

Twist grunted. “Ain’t my job ta give ya privacy. Sorry, bud. Gonna have ta do away with the modesty.”

Something twisted in the slam-piece’s expression, his jaw tightening. Never taking his eye off Twist, he stripped down without a hint of shame and pulled on the red robe. He shot a hesitant glance at his companion, then back at Twist, his features tight. “Him too,” Twist said quietly.

The slam-piece’s jaw trembled, his red eyes burning holes in Twist. Then he turned, shielding the sweet-piece with his body while he changed. All the time he spoke to him in soft murmurs. “It’s okay—it’s okay, Rus. I’m here with you, remember? I’m looking after you.”

Rus—damn it. Twist wished he hadn’t heard that. He didn’t like giving them names. Once they were both dressed, he picked up the ribbon, turning it over between his fingers. Sighing, he approached them. The slam-piece immediately recoiled, growling in soft warning. Twist rolled his eye-light. “Fine, do it yerself,” he said, handing him the ribbon. He looked at it suspiciously. “It ain’t gonna bite ya, sweetheart. Or would you rather I did it?” Expression tight, the slam-piece snatched the ribbon from him, turning to Ru—to the sweet-piece.

With a gentle nod, he drew him in and carefully laced the ribbon around his soft white ribs. His work was delicate and careful, done with such tenderness it felt utterly wrong to be watching. Once he was finished, Rus— _the sweet-piece_ was a pretty display of white, threaded over with red. The slam-piece handed him the rest of the ribbon. He held it with trembling hands and shook his head. “i—i don’t know if i can—” His breath caught on a sob and he stifled a hand over his mouth.

The slam-piece pulled him in at once and kissed his skull. “You don’t have to,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

Twist cleared his throat. “Ya gotta wear it, sweetheart. Boss’s orders.”

The slam-piece looked at him with dull red eyes. “He’s not putting it on.”

“Then I am,” Twist said.

The ‘piece’s jaw was set. Exhaling, he thrust the ribbon into Twist’s hands and undid the sash of his robe. With a coil of disgust and hatred in the pit of his chest, Twist shook his head. “Sacrum, darlin’.” His orders had been implicit, but they had been orders nonetheless.

The slam-piece shut his sockets, drawing his arms around himself. “No.”

“Boss won’t be pleased if ya don’.”

He looked at Twist sharply. “That sounds like your problem.”

“She’ll make it yer problem,” Twist said with a wry smile. He looked at the sweet-piece. “An’ his.”

The slam-piece squeezed his sockets shut, his fists curling at his sides. “Do it then,” he said tightly.

Kneeling behind him, Twist carefully moved his robe out of the way. His bones were quivering. Twist caught a glimpse of him squeezing onto his counterpart’s hands. Carefully, he threaded the ribbon between the holes of his sacrum. With each pull of the ribbon, the skeleton flinched, wincing quietly.  When Twist was done, he stood up and turned away. “Boss’ll see ya now,” he said monotonously.

When they reached Muffet’s chambers she opened the door for them and looked gratuitously between the two decorated skeletons. “Oh, don’t you look lovely. Come in, dearies. Make yourselves comfortable.” The sweet-piece was clinging to his companion so furiously his fingers were leaving scratches. He was breathing harshly and there were tear tracks on his face. The slam-piece’s expression was like stone.

Once they were inside, Muffet turned to Twist. “Interesting stunt you pulled with the ribbon.” Twist stiffened and she grasped his jaw. “I don’t appreciate you going against my orders.” He opened his mouth and she tightened her hold. Agony shot through his skull. “The work on the pretty one is far too delicate for you, dearie. Do you take me for a fool?” He didn’t answer—couldn’t, with her hand so tight around his jaw. “Had I not more pressing matters to attend to, it would be you strapped down to that bed.” Twist stared at her with cold contempt and she sighed, letting him go. He flexed his jaw, wincing. “Later, perhaps,” she said dismissively. “If I’m unsatisfied with these two. Luckily for you, I’m sure that won’t be the case.” Smiling at him, she shut the door, leaving him to stand outside. He dragged a hand over his skull, and shut his sockets.

 

Hours later, Twist was sent to tidy up. When he reached Muffet’s chambers, he froze in the doorway, ice running through his soul. The sweet-piece was cradling the slam-piece’s head in his lap, dabbing his face with his robe. The white came away a shocking red. He looked up at Twist. His face was tear-stained. “help us,” he whispered. “please.”

His voice was so desperate, so pitiful, Twist felt something breaking inside him. He strode over quickly to examine the slam-piece. There was a deep gash across his right socket, magic and blood gushing down his face. “Keep pressure on it,” Twist said. “An’ gimme a minute.” He headed into the connecting bathroom and wet a facecloth before returning. He dabbed at the slam-piece’s face, eyeing the—eyeing Rus as he did.

He was stroking the back of the slam-piece’s neck. His other hand was placed deliberately over his own vertebrae. Between his fingers, Twist caught a glimpse of red. “That a bite mark?” he asked. Rus looked defensive, his sockets widening.

“n-no, it’s just—”

“Yer gonna wanna put a balm on tha’ ‘fer the venom gets inta yer system. Spider has a nasty bite.” He glanced down at the slam-piece. He certainly looked the worse for wear between the two of them; teeth marks decorated his ribs and collarbone, dots of red patterned across the bone. Twist noticed a hairline fracture across one of his ribs.

After cleaning him up, he wrapped a piece of cloth around his skull. “Change it when it soaks through,” he told Rus. “Bandages ‘re in the linen cupboard under the bathroom sink.” He looked down at the slam-piece. His good socket was closed, but he was awake. Twist could tell by the way he twitched and clung to every part of Rus he could reach. It would be too late to stop the venom from getting into his system. He’d just have to see it through.

“I’ll get yer ointment,” Twist said to Rus, climbing off the bed and heading back to the bathroom. Muffet kept a small tub of anti-venom in the bathroom—for the days when she lost control without intending to. The venom was easily stopped if the ointment was applied soon enough after the bite. Twist returned to the bedroom, where Rus was watching the slam-piece with increasing misery. “Put this on yer bite,” Twist said, handing him the tub. Rus took it mutely and dabbed it on the bite mark on his neck. It looked superficial—which meant it had likely only been intended as bait. Judging by the state of the slam-piece, it had worked.

They’d been sitting for a few minutes when the slam-piece opened his eye. He saw Twist’s face first, and his good socket went wide. “Where is he?” he snapped, trying to sit up.

“Easy there, sweetheart—he’s right here.” He looked behind him sharply. “He ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Twist said. “An’ neither ‘re you. Not with those injuries.”

The slam-piece either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. He twisted around and crumpled into Rus’s arms. “Rus,” he breathed. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did she try to—”

“i’m—o-okay. she left after you—” He wiped tears from his sockets. “and she didn’t touch me apart from…” The slam-piece looked at the bite mark, red in his eyes.

He inhaled and pressed his face into Rus’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Rus. I tried to stop her—but I couldn’t—” He whimpered when Rus clung to him, withdrawing to look him in the eye.

“no, no you did… all you could.” His breath hitched and he stroked his companion’s spine. Twist could see dried magic around the slam-piece’s pelvis, and a thin crack on his iliac crest. Swallowing, he stood up, heading for the door. “help us.” He stopped, shutting his eyes at the sound of Rus’s voice. He couldn’t do this, he _couldn’t do this._ He turned around to find Rus looking at him with glistening eyes. “please, we can’t… he can’t…” He looked down and his chin quivered. The other skeleton was watching Twist too. The mistrust was still there, but so was a vulnerability. Pleading and desperation.

Rolling his shoulders, Twist approached them, despite every instinct he’d developed over the years screaming at him not to. He sat on the bed next to them and nodded at the slam-piece. “What’s yer name, sweetheart?” he asked.

The skeleton stared at him wordlessly, then spoke in a soft voice. “Edge.” Twist shouldn’t have asked, but there was something cathartic about knowing their names.

“You two’ve been around the market, I take it? This ain’t yer first rodeo?” They looked solemn, and Twist nodded. “Well, all yer previous owners? I can promise ya, none of ‘em ‘re like this. She will try ta break ya. Inside an’ out.” He patted Rus’s knee. “Look after each other, okay? Ye’ve got somethin’ special. Don’ let her take that away from ya.” He stood up, making his way to the door. “I’ll keep a socket out fer ya, got it? Can’t promise it’ll help, but…” He sighed and tipped his head back. “Ya don’ gotta be alone fer this.”

Rus leaned down and buried his face against Edge’s shoulder. Edge looked at Twist and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’ thank me. It ain’t worth yer breath.” Twist walked out of the room, knowing he’d probably just screwed himself harder than Muffet ever had.


End file.
